Kiddo
by Liebling
Summary: Ginny visits the grave of Harry Potter. Bittersweet.


Virginia-known to Ginny as her friends-sat on the long, nastily unkempt, grass.  
  
Her dusty rose coloured skirt was laid out before her, and her hands were clasped together.  
  
The wind whipped her gingerbread cookie coloured hair, and big wet tears were streaming down her chocolate milk coloured eyes. Flowing curls fell into her face, and mascara ran down her eyes.  
  
Mournfully she looked down at the gravestone.  
  
"Harry James Potter, beloved son, beloved friend, beloved person."  
  
It read.  
  
Ginny looked at it, and began bawling. Harry had died in the war versus Voldermort, just one week ago.  
  
Looking at the gravestone brought up so many memories to Ginny, and it hurt that he was gone.  
  
She was all alone in the dark graveyard, flowers everywhere, most of them wilting.  
  
No one was coping.  
  
Actually that last week, all of the Weasley's including Hermione, had been lying around the burrow in sweatpants and eating cookie dough ice cream out of the container trying to no avail to speak of Harry without breaking down.  
  
Everyone was so, dead.  
  
That previous day Ginny had cried on Bill's shoulder for the whole day. He put an arm around her and told her, "Shhhh, babe, it's okay, he's in a better place. He died for a good cause."  
  
But Ginny, as well as most of the other Weasley's were inconsolable. Molly would often go off on a tirade about 'her Harry' or 'her son' and then break down.  
  
It was horrible.  
  
It was as though, they were all living in this insane asylum, where anyone could break down at any time and anyone often did.  
  
She tried to remember Harry in the 'right light.' Harry Potter. It evoked so much, the way his hair was always mussed up, the way his eyes always sparkled, the way his scar always flickered.  
  
And the way, she, loved him.  
  
It was safe to say, Ginny lived for Harry. She had never gotten the chance to tell the shy boy her true feelings. For, she found it pointless and would always say to her best of friends, "I'll do it tomorrow."  
  
There was no tomorrow left.  
  
Harry's death brought about so many lost chances. Ginny, like most girls had this 'fantasy' in her mind that she would marry Harry, have gorgeous children, and live happily ever after.  
  
That he would be her rock.  
  
He was just seventeen, still just a boy. He still loved to go fishing, play tag, eat strawberries, and watch Quidditch. He was still so immature, still so much to learn, so much to live for.  
  
In Ginny's mind, she thought if she believed in the whole "Heaven" spiel. She wasn't so sold on it.  
  
But, she concluded that, there must be something in store for someone as good and as loved as Harry. Someone who put so much into other people. God wouldn't forget.  
  
Being anything 'but' religious, the sixteen-year-old girl decided that there must be something else. There was something else.  
  
But that didn't take away the fact that Harry was gone from this 'Heaven on Earth.' That Ginny would no longer be able to rest her head on his shoulder during scary Quidditch matches the way a little sister would do. And that she would no longer be able to eat chocolate frogs with him on summer days. That she would never get another chance to tell him how she really felt about him.  
  
Her lips wanted to dance with his. She wanted their souls to sing magically and for the chemistry to just 'be there.' She wanted so much.  
  
Chances sacrificed.  
  
Ginny wiped her eyes, and then she began talking.  
  
"Harry. I just wanted you to know, that I love you. I just wanted you to know that we all love you, and that you died for so much. You sacrificed everything. You're a great person, kiddo. Tell your Mum and Daddy I said 'hi' and make sure to wait until I get up there with you until you eat loads of chocolate frogs. After all, what would Heaven be without chocolate frogs? And, kiddo, remember, that when I get up there some day you still owe me that galleon! And you still owe me that kiss."  
  
Breathless, exhausted, overwhelmed, and oddly at peace she stood up and wiped off the dirt from her skirt.  
  
The sun silhouetted her figure as she turned her back on the gravestone, blowing it one last kiss.  
  
A person could be seen in the distance his wild red hair all about. It was Charlie. She ran towards him, and hugged him as he picked her up. She kissed his cheek as he put her back onto the ground.  
  
He took her small hand in his big one, and slowly they began to walk back to the burrow. 


End file.
